


Dance, Loser, Dance!

by Colorfullyminded



Series: Pinescone Month [6]
Category: Gravity Falls, Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon & Comics)
Genre: Bullying, But Wirt's not that kind of man, Dipper Agrees, Embarrassing, F bombs are dropped, He's just a nerd, M/M, Middle schoolers are Dicks, TW: Slurs, Tw: Inappropriate language, Wendy still thinks it be better to just deck the kids, Wirt's gotta school them in the only way they'll learn, a nerd who has a dark, cursing, secret, tw: homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 17:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colorfullyminded/pseuds/Colorfullyminded
Summary: It’s Wirt’s expression that is the most frightening.He doesn’t say anything. In fact, it’s hard to even gleam what he’s thinking.“...Wirt?” Greg asks, waving his hand in front of his brother’s stoic face.Wirt stands, wordlessly, and with his long legs, makes a beeline for the DLDM machine.





	Dance, Loser, Dance!

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt 6: Don't Do This to Yourself

“Well this is certainly not what I expected when you asked me out today,” Wirt comments, staring at the blinking, seizure-hazard lights of the arcade.

Dipper shrugs, “I thought it would be fun. Plus, look at Greg.”

The young boy is bouncing on the balls of his feet, smiling from ear to ear.

Wirt fights a smile of his own. “I do admit, seeing Greg so excited is quite nice. Hopefully he can burn all his energy here, so he’s more relaxed when he goes home. But that doesn’t explain what Wendy is doing here?”

The red head flips back her hair. “I’m here to put your losers in your place. I’m the queen of the arcade! Can’t have someone dethroning me.”

“She was lonely, and wanted to hang,” Dipper whispers.

“You little shit!” Wendy pulls him into a headlock. 

Mabel sways from side to side, just as bubbly as Greg. “We thought we’d make it a big group event. You know...all of us hanging out _together _. We don’t get to do it enough! You can’t steal my brother all summer,” Mabel tuts at him.

Wirt chuckles, firing back, “The same goes for you, Miss. Mabel Pines. I seem to find you running off with my brother to help assist you in your crazy shenanigans.”

“What can I say, I stimulate your brother’s creativity.”

“Yes, creativity which he brings home, and unleashes on me.”

Mabel tuts again, “Well, I’m just saying, if you and Dipper weren’t always trying to canoodle with each other, you’d have more chances to keep an eye on me, and by extension, keep your brother from assisting me in said “crazy shenanigans”

“Hey, don’t put this on me!” He laughs, gently pushing her.

“I’ll put it all on you! You two need to start hanging out with your siblings more! Stop neglecting us!” She jokes, pushing him much harder than he had, almost causing him to fall.

_ Sometimes she forgets her own strength. _

After their short repertoire, the group heads in, ready to play some games.

“Are you any good?” Dipper asks, arm linked with the poet’s.

“Depends on what game you’re referring to.”

Dipper’s eyes gleam with interest, “So you got a specific one?”

Wirt nods, kissing his boyfriend’s temple, “One that you’ll never hear about.”

He admits that it’s a little cruel, but Dipper’s whine is just too cute to resist.

Once inside, the group orders some drinks, claiming one of the tables as their own.

“What should we play first?” Wendy asks.

“I wanna go play Dance, Loser, Dance Mania!” Greg replies.

“Really? That game’s still around? I played that when I was 11.” Wendy says, thinking back nostalgically.

  
  
“We all played it when we were 11,” Wirt reflects, his own memories resurfacing. Judging by the brief silence that follows, it can be said that everyone is remembering that phase in their life.

“True. Very true,” Wendy agrees, taking a sip of her drink.

“Wirt, can I go play DLDM?”

Wirt waves him in the direction of the machine, “Yes, but if someone’s already playing, make sure to ask them kindly if you can have the next turn.”

  
  
Greg salutes him, “Yes sir, captain brother sir. I will be the most gentlemanly dancer this arcade has ever seen!” With his brother’s permission, Greg waddles off to go play.

“So...air hockey? Skee ball? Basketball hoops? Racing?” Dipper lists off the potential games Wirt might be a savant at. 

Wirt hums, pretending to think it over. After a moment, he leans back in, kissing his boyfriend’s temple again, “Still not going to tell you.”

“Aw, come on! Why not? I wanna know!” Dipper pouts, giving Wirt his best puppy dog look.

It’s powerful, and effective, but Wirt’s built up just enough of a tolerance to not completely cave. “Sorry, but this little talent of mine will go with me to the grave.”

“Ugh! Is it a coin machine? Fight Fighters? House of the Haunted Hosts? Ghoulbreakers? KinglyKong? The crane machines?”

Wirt takes a sip of his soda, pretending not to listen, “Wow, this is great cola. Is it cherry?”

“Wirt! Tell me! Babe, please! Cavity Cravers? LightSpeed? Oh, that music one, where you follow the notes? Maestro Madness! It’s Maestro Madness, isn’t it?”

“Gosh, just some...really, really great tasting cola. Is the food also this amazing?”

“Babe!!!” Dipper sobs.

Mabel and Wendy laugh at his misery.

Greg returns to the group, looking oddly subdued.

“Hey, I thought you were going to play DLDM?” Wirt enquiries, sipping his soda, somewhat distracted by his conversation with Dipper.

Greg fiddles with the buttons of his overalls, not looking his brother in the eyes.

Realizing something’s wrong when Greg doesn’t answer in his usual way, Wirt puts his cup down, shifting gears. “Hey...Gregory, what’s wrong?” Wirt kneels, trying to get Greg to meet his eyes.

Greg looks away, still fiddling with his buttons. “I don’t really want to play anymore…”

  
  
“What? Why not? You were so excited to play!” Mabel intrudes on the conversation. She cocks her head to the side; what could have happened to make her bubbly little friend so meek? “Was the line too long? I know DLDM is pretty popular with teens, so sometimes you gotta be patient, but--”

“Some kids were already playing…” Greg offers an explanation, but doesn’t really expand on that.

  
  
It still doesn’t reveal why he’s so quiet.

“Okay, some kids were playing...did you ask them if you could have the next turn? Like I told you?” Wirt prompts Greg with more questions, trying to get something.

Greg nods.

“And?” Wirt asks.

Greg scuffs his shoes against the carpeted floor, “They said...um...they said a fatty like me should go play a game I’d actually be good at.”

Everyone stares. Each person’s expression is widely different as the information sinks in. 

“They said...what?” Wendy growls, crushing her cup, still filled with soda. She hardly seems to notice the orange spritz dripping over her hand.

“Why would they say that? That’s so mean! Those little boogers! Greg, don’t you dare listen to them!” Mabel grinds her teeth, eyebrows furrowing. 

“DLDM is for everyone to play at the arcade! Stupid nerdest elites, thinking they can hog the machine all to themselves. They can’t decide who gets to play, and who doesn’t. I should get a manager,” Dipper mumbles, scouting the arcade for someone in uniform.

It’s Wirt’s expression that is the most frightening.

He doesn’t say anything. In fact, it’s hard to even gleam what he’s thinking.

“...Wirt?” Greg asks, waving his hand in front of his brother’s stoic face.

Wirt stands, wordlessly, and with his long legs, makes a beeline for the DLDM machine.

“Wirt!” Greg cries, watching his brother go.

“Oh hell yeah, kick their asses, Wirt,” Wendy throws her cup on the floor, adrenaline pumping, stomping off after the teen. She crushes the already flattened cup with her boot. 

“Shit! Wirt? Wirt! Wendy don’t encourage him!” Dipper climbs off the table, running to catch up. Possibly to stop any altercations; especially if Wendy gets too riled up.

Mabel is the last to go, resting her hand on the top of Greg’s head. She offers him a comforting smile, “Don’t worry, I’m sure your brother’s gonna take care of this. Let’s go give him our support!”

Greg nods, hesitant, not sure what’ll happen. Wirt isn’t usually the confrontational type, and those kids seemed like low down ruffians from the very beginning, so Greg worries that his brother is going to get himself in a sticky situation. He just hopes Wirt doesn’t get caught in the middle of something that really isn’t that big a deal. Well, Greg’s trying to not let it be a big deal.

He’s never really thought much about his weight. It was never an issue before? It shouldn’t be now..._ right? _

He puts his hand in Mabel’s and follows her to the DLDM machine.

By the time they arrive, there’s already some commotion.

“Buzz off grandpa, we’re trying to play!” One of the snot nosed middle schoolers says, flicking his wrist at Wirt. He doesn’t stop dancing for one moment.

“You owe my brother an apology,” Wirt says, voice surprisingly calm, but full of inflection.

“Awww, do you want us to buy tubby a lard of ice cream?” The other boy sneers, glancing briefly at Wirt, before turning back to the game, clearly more interested by what’s on the screen.

Wendy is being physically restrained by Dipper, “Let me go, Pines. Let me take care of them. I’m not afraid to punch a child!”

“Wendy, you’re an adult now! You’ll go to jail!”

“Fuck yeah I will! And it will be worth it!”

Wirt tunes their conversation out, staring intently at the two kids at the machine. “You owe my brother an apology,” he repeats, voice even more authoritative.

“Eat shit, nerd!” The boys laugh him off.

Wirt inhales through his nose, and exhales through his mouth. “Why don’t, after this round, you let my brother have a turn? That’s fair, isn’t it? I’m sure there’s plenty of other games you boys can play in the meantime. The arcade has a bunch of options--”

“What part of leave us alone, don’t you get?”

“Yeah, you want us to tell everyone you’re trying to hit on us? Trying to abduct us? We’ll get you kicked out, freak.”

Wirt seems nonplussed, “Really, I don’t think we need to resort to such drastic measures. All I want is for you to give my brother a simple apology for your rude comments, and let him play the game. He deserves a turn, just as much as you.”

  
  
“Hell no! We don’t want his fat ass sweating all over our machine! Why don’t you take him back to the food court, and stuff piggy’s face? I’ll bet he’ll like that!” The one boy says, glancing at his friend for approval. His friend answers back with barking laughter.

Wendy is straining to break free, Dipper’s heels grinding in the carpet. “Wirt, let me handle this! I’ll teach those little fucks who they’re messing with.”

“Wendy...No! Stop...don’t…hit...them...Wirt, please. Let’s just go; we’ll get one of the workers here, it’s pointless to reason with them.” Dipper grunts, both arms wrapped around Wendy’s waist. 

“Aw did you bring your girlfriend here to fight your battles? You can’t even defend yourself?”

“Of course he did, did you see him? He’s a scrawny little bitch!”

“Hahaha, are you your girlfriend’s bitch?”

  
  
The two begin chanting bitch at Wirt. He stares, indifferent.

Wirt curls and uncurls his fingers, counting silently in his head. “I’m only going to say this one more time. Apologize. To. My. Brother.”

The game finally comes to an end. The boys stop dancing, turning to regard Wirt for the first time. They slurp loudly from their cups.

Dipper once more tries to reason with his boyfriend. “Wirt, they’re dumb little shits, with hardly a braincell combined. Don’t waste your time on them. Let’s just get someone else to deal with them.”

“Dipper...I’m talking to them…”

  
  
“But Wirt--”

Wirt doesn’t bother turning around; just a slight raise of his voice is enough. “Dipper. Please! Let me handle this. Trust me.”

Dipper falters, “Yes, babe.” He’s never heard Wirt sound like this before. So cold, so apathetic. He doesn’t know how to feel about this.

“Wow, did you hear that? He called him babe.”

  
  
“So he’s not a bitch, he’s a queer!”

  
  
“That’s even better!” 

The middle schoolers cackle, like it’s the funniest joke they’ve ever heard.

“Apologize. To. My. Brother. ...please,” Wirt recites, never taking his eyes off them.

“No.” The first boy says.

“Apologize. To. My. Brother. ...please!” Wirt accentuates, a little more gruffly.

“No!” The second boy snaps.

“Apologize. To. My. Bro--”

  
  
“Fuck off, **FAGGOT!**” The first one yells, throwing his empty cup at Wirt’s head.

The cup hits him with a plop, falling pathetically to the floor. All around, the group has stilled.

“What...did you call him?” Dipper says, his voice dangerously low.

Wendy barely has time to react before they’re switching positions; now she’s holding him back. 

The kids point and laugh at Wirt, who hasn’t moved since he was hit in the face with the empty drink cup. “You heard us! Get lost. Take your fat ass brother, and your faggy boyfriend, and go bother someone who gives a shit! We’re busy!”

With that, they turn back to the game, flipping through the selections for a new song.

Wirt silently strides towards the front of the machine.

“Wirt, it’s fine. I don’t care anymore! Let’s just go!” Greg promises, having seen enough. He really doesn’t want this to continue--it’s getting them nowhere. And he can’t stand to watch his brother getting picked on by these no good hooligans.

Wirt isn’t listening. He reaches in his pocket, and pulls out a Quarter, silently dropping it on the 2nd player’s screen.

“What the hell is that?” The first boy asks, staring at the quarter.

“What, you giving me money now?” The second jeers.

“How bout we make a deal?” Wirt steeples his fingers together, his voice unwavering since the conversation began.

The kids squint up at him, “What do you mean?”

“You like thinking you’re hot shit, let’s put it to the test. Both of you, versus me. You can each go. If either of you beat me, if either of you get a higher score...then I’ll leave you alone, and you can continue playing as though we never bothered you. But if I beat you both...if I win, you have to leave the arcade. Immediately.”

The boys scoff, rolling their eyes.

  
  
“Why would we agree to that?” Player one asks.

“Yeah, we’re already at the machine? You just want a reason to sneak in and play!” Player two crows.

Wirt shrugs, “I guess you could be right. ...Or maybe you’re just afraid I’ll win?”

“Like you’re going to win!” Player one laughs.

“Please! We’ve been playing this for years!” Player two boast.

Wirt picks lint off his sweater, “If you’re so confident, then why not play? What do you have to lose? If anything, you’d just be showing me up, right?...Wouldn’t that be a big boost to your egos?”

“You’re hardly worth our time…We don’t want to destroy you.” Player one snorts, choosing to ignore Wirt.

Wirt doesn’t make it that easy. “You are scared! You don’t think you can beat me. I mean, how humiliating would it be if I was the winner? What would people think? You spent all this time, improving your skills, only for some nobody to come along, and show you up. Why, it would make you look right stupid. You don’t like feeling stupid, do you now?”

“Shut it man, you’re pushing your luck,” Player two hisses, side-eyeing his partner, wondering what to do.

“Ahh, well. Better to be a coward than stupid I suppose. You are young, so I guess it can’t be helped.”

  
  
The kids stare at him, faces twisting in disgust.

  
  
“We’re not cowards!” They growl, almost simultaneously.

Wirt tousles his hair, sighing deeply. He gives the kids a pitiable look, watching their blood physically boil over, “Really? Because from where I’m standing, I get the sense that you’re intimidated? Hey, don’t worry about it. You’re little kids, of course you’re going to be scared. Listen, it’s fine if you don’t want the big bad adult to show you up. Play your kiddie games, don’t take my deal. You’re too young to be wagering anyway; I shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

He gets them, hook, line and sinker. Nobody likes being treated like a child, especially not middle school children. 

...Or his boyfriend, but that's a can of worms he's not going to open again. 

Player one grabs his partner, and pushes him off the machine. “Let’s go, shithead! You’ll be sorry you ever decided to fuck with us! I can’t wait to see your face when you get beat by a “kid!” We’ll see how uppity you are after I wipe the floor with your limp wristed, bitch ass.”

“Yeah, you tell him Sam!” The second boy says from the floor.

“Shut up, Charles!” The first boy snaps, picking the song, putting his difficulty on hard. “I hope you know that this is one of the hardest songs to master. Don’t break a hip, gramps!”

Wirt steps up onto the board, removing his sweater. He tosses it to Dipper, who fumbles to catch it. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, buttoning them. 

“Wirt, what are you doing?” Dipper asks, completely dumbfounded. Even Wendy isn’t sure what he’s doing. Only Mabel seems to have an inkling of what’s happening; her smile wide, chest swelling with pride. Greg looks on silently, mouth gaping.

Wirt takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly, “I’m about to do something I swore off years ago. Dipper, you’re about to see a terrible side of me...I just want you to know...I love you, and please don’t judge me too badly when it’s over.”

Internally he’s screaming, _ Oh god! It’s not too late to turn back around. Don’t do this to yourself! You’re better than this! What the hell are you doing? Don’t do this Wirt, for the love of God-- _

He selects the highest difficulty possible, watching the teen’s eyebrows raise in confusion, quickly followed by fear, and finally, sudden regret. He gleams wickedly at the younger teen, and slams the start button.

\---

The screen flashes; Player 2 is the winner. _ Again _. The two boys lay on the floor of the arcade, gasping for breath, staring in disbelief at their screens. Wirt is kneeling over, hands on his knees. He’s panting, sweat dripping down his face. His knees shake, threatening to give out at a moment’s notice.

“This is bullshit!” The kid’s cry.

“You cheated! You didn’t tell us you played!” 

“That wasn’t something I had to disclose. You assumed I never played; I didn’t find it in me to correct you,” Wirt wheezes, weakly lifting himself into a standing position. “Now then...I believe I won...which means--”

  
  
“Fuck no!”

  
  
“Fuck off!”

  
  
“Burn in hell Faggot!”

“Go Die!”

  
  
“Suck your boyfriend’s dick and choke--”

  
  
The insults came, one after another. 

Wirt steps forward, using his full height to tower over them. The boy’s go dead silent.

He looks at them, looking at them in a way he’s only ever looked at someone once before. And that thing, wasn’t a someone. To look at children like this; it’s probably a little traumatizing. But then, doesn’t Stan say that trauma builds character?

“Do you know what true fear is? Do you want to know? You lost. Accept it. Get your shit, and get. FUCKING. lost! Before I show you what else I have up my sleeves. Find something else to do today, maybe learn a life lesson for once. And if you ever Fuck with my little brother again, if you ever FUCK with anyone again...I’ll make you truly regret it. Not just me...but the people behind me, they are some terrifying people you don’t want to cross. One of them’s a local... claims she’s the queen of the arcade...just a tidbit.” Wirt turns, and starts to walk away. He stops, glancing back, “Oh and...watch your fucking language. You’re too young to be swearing.”

He jumps off the platform, strolling casually back to his group.

He hears, rather than sees, the sounds of scuffling feet, and blubbering threats, as the little hell demons retreat, back to their seventh circle. 

“Wirt...holy shit that was--” Wendy opens with.

“Hot?” Dipper finishes for her, looking a little flustered; like he’d been the one dancing.

“I was going to say awesome, but yeah. I gotta admit, your were even getting me a little hot under the collar.” Wendy fans herself, chuckling.

“No. No no no. That was not amazing. That was not hot. It was mortifying. It was awful...and so...so dweeby. In fact, those kids will probably look back on this day and realize how stupid it was to put so much stock into a Dance, Loser, Dance Mania game…like we all did...when were 11.” Now that the kid's are gone, and the adrenaline is settling, Wirt’s reverting back to his neurotic, frazzled self. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, exhausted.

“Wait...oh my gosh...you said we all had that phase. Oh my gosh, you’re a savant of DLDM?” Dipper says, finally putting the pieces together.

“Ugh. When I was 9, there was this girl I liked who really loved the game. I thought I could impress her if I learned how to play. From there...it was just a spiral of addiction. Like I’m pretty sure I forgot I even liked her once I started playing; I was more obsessed with beating her high score than asking her out. Oh god! The memories...those days spent at the boardwalk arcade.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m freaking out a little. My boyfriend is such a nerd!” Dipper bites his knuckles, trying to contain his squealing.

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything. Now you must die; all of you...to preserve my secret.”

  
  
“Um, that’s going to be hard when you’ve drawn a crowd, dude. You’re going to have a lot of bodies to dump,” Wendy points to the onlookers. Wirt flips around; the crowd claps, and whistle, when Wirt finally takes note of them. They clapped earlier, but Wirt was too high on adrenaline to notice. Now though, there’s no escaping the awkwardness of strangers congratulating him over something as simple as a dancing rhythm game. It’s worse when they start tossing out compliments; one of them being a staff member, 'finally glad to see someone putting those little brats in their place.'

“Doesn’t he work here…? Couldn’t he just make them leave…?” Wirt shakes his head, deciding it doesn’t matter. It’s best not to dwell on it. Best not to dwell on the last 10 minutes of his life that can never be unseen.

“Also, didn’t you just say earlier that watching Wirt was...hot, bro bro?” Mabel teases, turning the spotlight on Dipper, relieving Wirt of some of his embarrassment, though he’s still suffering from second hand embarrassment.

Dipper turns bright red, floundering, “What? Did I? I don’t remember that! Hahahaha!”

Mabel nudges him, “You’re the geek in love with that dork. You said, out loud, in front of everyone, that you thought his DLDM playing was hot! You can’t deny it, we all heard it; we’re all witnesses to your nerdy love. Can I get a hear hear?!”

The crowd who has yet to disperse chants a hear-hear back to her.

Wirt once more tries to dispel the idea that is planting itself in his friend’s heads. “It’s not hot. It’s not even a little cool. It’s the most uncool thing anyone’s ever done! Oh god, I bet someone's recorded it and it’ll be online-- and the post, and the comments! Ugh, I just kicked some 12-14 year old's asses; that’s makes me look like such a tool! Ugh! What if Sara see? What if Jason Funderberker sees??? Ugh, awful. Just awful. I can’t even think about it! The most uncool anyone’s ever been!” He despairs. 

Greg steps forward, hands clasped to his chest. “I don’t know...I think you were very cool. I think what you did was the coolest thing ever, Wirt. Even cooler than 50’s cool...and that’s a Greg fact!” His voice is soft, the first thing he’s said in awhile, his smile reaching from cheek to cheek. 

Wirt looks down, his earlier outburst softening as soon as he sees Greg’s face. In a second, he’s gone from instant regret, to immediate gratification.

“Yeah Wirt, sticking up for your brother like that...playing it cool… showing them who’s boss without having to lift your fists, that was what really stuck out to me,” Wendy commends, giving the teen a thumbs up.

“You were awesome, Wirt. Anyone who sticks up for their sibling is the best. I should know...I have a pretty awesome example,” Mabel winks at her brother, then turns her praise back to the rightful owner.

Dipper steps forward, resting his hand against Wirt's cheek. “I think every time you show me that protective, caring side of yours, I think I fall a little more in love, each time. That’s what really does me in. How amazing you are. How cool you can be without even realizing. How much you care for your little brother, and just, the people around you. Even when you were doing something that you thought was so humiliating, you went into it with all the confidence, all the bravado of someone who didn’t give a shit what anyone thought-- because your brother meant more than your pride. I love that confidence of yours, that part of you that comes out, to show everyone what you’re made of--that’s why I’m so proud to be your boyfriend...”

Wirt melts into Dipper's touch.

“...Also you said fuck, and that turned him on--” Wendy asides.

“And you said fuck, and that--WAIT NO! WENDY! SHUT UP!” Dipper gasps, swinging around to fight his friend.

Surrounded by his friend’s admiration--but more importantly, seeing his brother's smile returned, Wirt doesn’t feel so ashamed by what he did. Even if he does find it up on Youtube later, with one million views. Even if Sara or Jason Funderberker were to find it, and tease him endlessly for it. Even if his current gang never lets him live it down. Even if it’s the most obnoxious, most juvenile, most useless skill that he excels at. 

He would do it again, in a heartbeat. _ For Greg. _

“What can I say...no one fucks with my brother and gets away with it.” His voice doesn’t sound nearly as confident as before, but there’s still a hint of resolve in his words. A lingering strength.

Greg giggles.

Mabel flashes him a toothy grin.

Dipper shudders--practically swoons. Wendy rolls her eyes, slapping him over the back of the head. 

Wirt leans forward, addressing his brother, “Well, now that the Dance, Loser, Dance Mania machine is finally freed up, don’t you want to go and play, Greg?”

Greg shakes his head, slipping his hand into Wirt’s, squeezing gently. “No. I don’t want to play anymore. Right now, I want to get my cool big brother a drink, and find him a place to rest.”

Wirt squeezes Greg’s hand, allowing the younger boy to lead him back to the tables.

“Wirt…?"

  
  
“Yeah, Greg?”

  
  
“...Can I say Fuck now?”

“Absolutely not!”

_ Okay, maybe he would have reframed his words differently, if he could do it over. _

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a silly headcanon. An Idea about video games that the character would be surprisingly good at. I figured Wirt would be great at rhythm games, and then it became "What if he was that kid who was obsessed with DDR when he was younger, to the point that he was unbelievably good now." And then the idea became more, and after awhile I realized, I could totally turn this hc into an actual prompt. 
> 
> I'm glad I did. 
> 
> Also, in case people don't know. I love when Wirt, who I see as refraining from most potty language, drops a nice swear here and there, in a moment of strong emotions. It's like "Ohhhh, yesssssss" 
> 
> Who ever is mean to Greg will feel the wrath of not only Wirt, but the millions of fans as well. Don't hurt the precious bean.


End file.
